I sit here watching The 9th Gate, a Polanski and Depp classic, for about the thirthieth time, and have just now realized that as of this month, this will be the first year in the last five that I have not been in Paris.
Forget the fact that I am not French, have no French in me, and am not even completely competent in speaking the language - I consider Paris to be in strong competition for being "my city". Don't ask me how this happens. But as a very wise, beautiful and classic Frog once said, "sometimes home is just a feeling." (that would be La Deneuve herself, Catherine).
On that note, I am finally committing to attending the French language group that meets Wednesday nights in Santa Barbara. Watch me get a job and start Wednesday morning, now that I've said that....
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